


Close Call

by roguebowtie



Series: Teenage Mutant Ninja Cheerleaders [10]
Category: Glee, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Blaine Anderson-Stark, M/M, Ninja!Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 19:51:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roguebowtie/pseuds/roguebowtie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt’s almost caught out, and it’s only quick thinking that keeps Blaine from getting suspicious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Call

“You should put your sleeve down before your boyfriend sees.”

“Hm?”

“Didn’t I hear Dummy hit you with a wrench yesterday?” Clint asked calmly, tossing an apple to Kurt.

He caught it easily, setting it on the desk beside the keyboard. “Oh… yes. Crap. Thanks.” Kurt swiftly pushed his sleeves down to cover his unblemished arms, despite the broken air conditioning in his office. He left the cuffs undone to allow at least a little air flow.

“Way to go last night, Kiddo,” Clint said approvingly before he clapped his shoulder and left, singing under his breath. He was gone between one moment and the next - it was one of the things Kurt liked about his uncle.

A few minutes later, a smaller figure slipped into Kurt’s workspace. He glanced up then went back to typing, filling out some requisition forms for a new shipment for Stark Industries.

“You’re being sneaky,” Kurt said, lips quirking into a smile as he typed.

The door shut quietly and Blaine walked over, hopping up to perch on the edge of his desk. He started playing with the Newton’s Cradle that was on display beside him.

Clack, clack, clack, clack….

“It’s really hot in here,” he commented, glancing over at Kurt. 

“Yes, it is,” Kurt replied, reaching for the holoscreen and reorienting a few of the boxes with sure, pale fingers.

“Don’t you feel overheated?”

“No.”

“Oh,” Blaine nodded. His own sleeves were pushed up past his elbows, his bow tie hanging loose and the first two buttons undone at his throat.

“Any reason why you were sneaking in, instead of just sauntering in as usual?” Kurt asked, glancing over and smiling.

“Uhm… Because I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Since when?”

“I’m kind of grounded.”

“Grounded.”

“Yes, grounded. I’m not supposed to leave the living levels.”

Kurt tapped his finger at the screen to save what he was doing and swiveled in his chair to give Blaine his full attention. “Why?” he asked, though he had a very good idea of the reason.

“I…” Blaine rubbed at the back of his neck and looked embarrassed, so Kurt tugged at him and pulled him to sit on his lap. He leaned into the older boy and took a deep breath. “I sort of sneaked out of dinner last night and managed to get myself almost mugged, if it weren’t for a pair of superheroes; and now Dad’s mad at me for both sneaking off AND having to get saved by some ‘two bit, home grown, barely recognised masked people’ or something like that.” 

Kurt stiffened and seemed about to argue in favour of the unknown heroes, and Blaine was quick to clarify. “Not that _**I**_ think they’re nobodies, but Dad has this… thing. A new group showed up when school started this year - you wouldn’t know they were new, it was around when you came as well. Anyhow, they’re not organised, as well as people can tell, and the Avengers kind of disapprove of anyone using lethal violence against normal humans… Except Clint and Natasha, and she’s really proud of this one set. Porcelain and Snix? They apparently kill rapists. Which,” Blaine glanced at Kurt, “for the record? Is kind of awesome.”

Kurt sat silent beneath him, his hand rubbing the small of Blaine’s back, not really reacting to the tale. “I see,” he said simply. “In that case, you should probably not be down here if we still want to go out on a date next weekend,” he teased, leaning up as his hand found the nape of Blaine’s neck and tugged him down for a soft, slow kiss.

“Let me stay a little longer,” Blaine whispered. “Your door locks and you can darken the windows,” he said, smirking slightly.

Kurt chuckled, pressing the buttons necessary for that to happen as he tugged Blaine into another, far dirtier, kiss. Blaine groaned into his mouth, pressing closer to him and grasping at his shoulders, his arms, his wrists, slipping his hands up his sleeves and pressing his fingers into Kurt’s pale skin. A moment later had one of Kurt’s hands firm on the back of Blaine’s neck, the other pulling up Blaine’s shirt just enough to slip his hand to splay at the small of his back, tugging him tighter to himself as Blaine’s hands slid into his hair.

It was several minutes before the kiss broke, both panting into each other’s mouths as they tried to calm themselves down. It wouldn’t do any good to get too worked up. They were in the offices, hardly a private place for more vigorous activities.

Blaine ran his hands up and down Kurt’s forearms before glancing at one and frowning slightly. He lifted Kurt’s right hand, kissing the inside of his wrist before turning it over to inspect the side of his forearm. “It’s not bruised,” he commented, surprised.

“Arnica Salve,” Kurt said immediately. “I put a lot on last night, kept reapplying it. Works wonders for bruises,” he said.

“It’s not even an old yellowing bruise, it’s like you never got hit at all.”

Kurt pulled Blaine into another kiss, hoping to put any blossoming thoughts out of his mind. Blaine may not be an engineering genius like his father was, but he was ridiculously clever just the same - and that was something Kurt would have to be more careful about in the future.

Tongues tangled and hands wandered, before chaste kisses were placed on lip, on jaw, on cheek - and Blaine reluctantly slid off Kurt’s lap to stand, running a hand over his hair to make sure it was still in place. 

“I’ll see you later,” Kurt promised, taking Blaine’s hand and kissing his palm before waving his hand at the door. “Shoo, I have work to do,” he teased, pressing the buttons to unlock the door and lighten his windows.

“Does that make me your booty call?” Blaine laughed, heading for the door and pausing with his hand on the handle. 

“Nonsense, there was no booty involved,” Kurt winked, sharing Blaine’s grin as the teen left.

The door snapped shut and Kurt sighed, pushing his sleeves down again, this time buttoning them securely.

That was close. It’d taken just under a year for it to happen, but it was still close.

Too close.


End file.
